


Fish Stew and Mint Tea

by VoidofRoses



Series: Domesticated Bliss [6]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: M/M, Moomintroll & Joxter bonding, Snufkin & Mymble bonding, genderfluid snufkin, just in time for pride month, pregnancy warning, they’re in their late forties stop clutching your pearls, y e p it happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-06 00:12:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19051330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoidofRoses/pseuds/VoidofRoses
Summary: Snufkin suddenly wished that he hadn’t swallowed the tea, if only so he could have something to spit out.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a month away from Spring when Moomintroll suddenly woke from hibernation.

Moominvalley had been blanketed in a sheet of pure white snow since the week before Yuletide, many of the inhabitants already sleeping soundly in their homes, whether they be made of brick, wood or earth. The only people active in the valley were random Hemulens, and the bathhouse that sat at the end of the pier was occupied by Too-Ticky, as usual, waiting for Spring when she would welcome Mymble awake with open arms and a kiss.

But for now, let’s go back to Moomintroll.

He rubbed sleep from his eyes, hugging Snufkin’s pillow close to his chest where it had been all winter, and rolled over, attempting to go back to sleep. His random hibernation wakings had become a thing over the years, ever since he was a young troll, and while he had grown to accept it as part of his life, all Moomintroll wanted sometimes was to go back to sleep. His snout pressed against the pillow in his arms, inhaling the lingering scent of tobacco as his tail curled over his hip as though mimicking his husband’s paw.

He laid there for what seemed like hours, occasionally turning onto his back or side as he stared at the snow piled against his window, the clock that refused to tick further into the end of the winter months, the snores that came from downstairs. Eventually, Moomintroll sighed and got up, placing Snufkin’s pillow down and grumbled, grabbing hold of a dressing gown that he’d bought back for him one Spring, for extra warmth.

Though, come to think of it, the floorboards were warm instead of their usual cold. Moomin shifted his foot across one to test it, and yes, it was warm. Someone must have been refuelling the fire downstairs on the lower floor. Tying the dressing gown rope around his waist, he left the bedroom, suddenly curious, and headed downstairs.

He went past the guest bedroom that Snorkmaiden shared with Ninny on the third floor, the other guest bedroom that housed Little My and Mymble, then mamma and pappa’s bedroom that they now shared with the Joxter on the first before he reached the bottom landing of the house. Moomin’s nose was hit with the smell of something cooking, his eyes widening when he caught the whiff of a familiar fish stew and the scent of fresh baked bread. His tail wavered behind him, pursing his lips together.

It couldn’t be Snufkin. It was still a month until Spring. But what if he’d come back early? Moomintroll told his tail to shush when it wagged behind him at the thought. It had happened before. His wanderer legs had brought him back early one or two winters past, and oh, Moomin dared to hope that his husband had returned. But as he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, he gave the Joxter a dead-eyed stare.

“Oh. It’s just you.”

His father-in-law...father? (Moomintroll found himself perplexed that he didn’t know how to address the Joxter now that he was enamoured with his pappa and mamma) turned his head to blink cat-like blue eyes at him from the stove, reaching to tug his pipe away from his mouth and give him a sour look. “Well you two are more alike than you think,” he grumbled, tail swaying behind his legs before he turned his attention back to the stove. “Yes, me. You’re awake early, Moomintroll.”

“It happens sometimes,” he said with a small yawn, quelling the disappointment in his stomach as he walked over and reached for the kettle, filling it with some water for coffee.

“Mmm, pappa told me.”

“I didn’t realise you know Snufkin’s stew recipe.”

“Who do you think he stole it from?” The Joxter’s eyes were shining as he said that, a grin forming on his lips around his pipe that he’d slid back to rest there, closing the pot lid. “It’s not that difficult.”

“I can somehow never get it right.” Moomintroll pouted, setting the kettle on the stove and turning the lower plate on.

“Mmm pity you just walked in on the finishing touches, I would have taught you.” Turning away from the stove, the Joxter sat down a little heavily into a seat at the kitchen table, leaning an elbow against the table and the other on the back of the chair, leaning back with one leg crossed over the other. Moomin turned to the kettle, achingly reminded of Snufkin, and drummed his fingers against the counter. “You look agitated.”

“Of course I am.” Moomintroll’s tail swayed side to side behind him, his ears flat against his head. “It’s still the middle of winter, yet I’m awake.”

“Here.” Looking over his shoulder, he saw the Joxter offering his pipe to him, his expression lazy. “It’s catnip. Not sure how it works for Moomins but it’s relaxing.”

His ear flicked, expression a little perplexed. He’d shared Snufkin’s pipe with him before, both recreationally and otherwise, but Moomin sighed and walked over to the table, sitting down across from him and holding his paw out for it. The Joxter gave him a smile and handed it over, then rested his chin on his paw as he watched him take a puff. It took a few puffs and inhales, but eventually Moomin’s ears folded forward, relaxing from their pulled back position, his shoulders shifting from their pent up state. 

“There we go.” The Joxter stood from his chair as the kettle whistled, pulling it off the stove and beginning to fix up a couple of cups of coffee. “Catnip’s a natural relaxant for mumriks. I discovered it during my travels.”

“Snufkin smokes it sometimes,” he said after a moment, paw curled around the pipe as he leaned back in his chair. “A lot lately, actually. I can’t remember the last time he smoked raspberry leaves.”

The Joxter hummed in response as he stirred their coffees, coming back over to the table and setting Moomin’s down in front of him as he took his seat again, watching the way the lad’s tail swayed almost sadly behind him. “It could be he has a lot on his mind,” he responded, cupping his paws around his mug and taking a sip of his coffee, watching the way his son-in-law blinked owlishly at him. Moomintroll’s eyes weren’t as wide as a mumrik’s usually blew when catnip was smoked before they built up a tolerance, so it either didn’t affect Moomins as much as mumriks or he was used to it.

“He’d tell me...wouldn’t he?” Moomin’s brow knitted together as he removed the pipe from his mouth and handed it back, reaching for his own coffee. He didn’t wait for the Joxter to respond to that before he shook his head. “No. I told him when we got married that he didn’t have to tell me everything. That he was still his own person. It’s okay if he hasn’t.”

“Aye. Marriage is a partnership.” The Joxter took a drag of his pipe, looking away as he released the smoke from his lungs. “Was never one for it much myself, but some like it.”

Moomintroll looked at him, his curiosity piqued slightly as he took a sip of his drink, pursing his lips together. “If I may ask...why did you decide to, ah...”

“Form a partnership with your pappa and mamma then?” The Joxter shrugged, leaning back against his chair and crossing his arms. “I suppose it was a long time coming. I don’t know what he told you about what happened back then, if anything.”

“I’ve read his memoirs.” Moomintroll tilted his head, looking down at his mug. “Although I suppose they’re...toned down for younger readers.”

“Possibly.” The Joxter closed his eyes, puffing on his pipe. “Moomin always was soft. How or why Hodgkins picked him up baffles me, although I suppose I’m grateful for that or I wouldn’t have met him.” He inclined his head. “Some things are meant to happen. In any case, we were...involved a few times, before I met Mymble and before he met Moominmaiden. But one’s nature and desires do not simply end there, understand?”

Moomintroll’s paws tightened around his coffee mug, staring down at the murky brown liquid as he thought about it. “I think I do,” he responded, tail flicking behind him as he took a long swig of his drink before placing the cup back down on the table. “Like how Snufkin’s nature to head south didn’t just stop because we got married, yes?”

“Correct.” The Joxter took a drag of his pipe, resting it between his fingers as he looked at Moomin, a small amount of pride in his eyes. His son-in-law had wits about him. How interesting.

“Thank you. I...” Moomin’s ears flicked as he looked away. “You’ve given me a bit to think about.”

“Then would you care to join me for a bit of stew before you go back to sleep?”

“Yes.” Moomin smiled, shrugging. “Though given my nature I don’t know if I’ll go back to sleep. Not fully for the rest of winter anyway.”

The Joxter’s skin wrinkled around his eyes as he grinned back. “You catch on fast, Moomin.” He stood, clapping his hand on the troll’s shoulder as he made his way over to check on the fish stew, leaving Moomin to enjoy the rest of his coffee as he looked out the kitchen window, watching the snow pile up outside.

\---

Snufkin exited the bathroom, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Many of his younger siblings were asleep, but his mother and a few of the older ones remained awake. He’d found her turtle-backed house to the south-east, not long after he began feeling sick shortly into his journey. Mymblemamma had welcomed him in with open arms and a spare bed, expecting him to only stay a few nights.

Nights had turned into weeks.

Snufkin had fought down the urge to flee for days, tail between his legs. His stomach churned at the smell of certain foods, restless sleeping habits and weird cravings were accompanied by it. He ran a sweaty paw through his hair as he made his way downstairs, where he found his mother waiting with a cup of tea and the kitchen void of his siblings.

“Here, dear.” The Mymble smiled gently at him, sympathetically almost. “It’ll help settle your stomach while we talk.”

“Talk?” Snufkin took a seat and drank greedily from the cup, swishing it around his mouth and swallowing it down before continuing. “What about?”

“Why, the fact that you’re pregnant.”

Snufkin suddenly wished that he hadn’t swallowed the tea, if only so he could have something to spit out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He couldn’t be _pregnant_ , and yet...
> 
> Snufkin deals with the fallout of the Mymble’s revelations about his own biology from last chapter.

Snufkin stared down at his tea while the Mymble let it sink in, his paws shaking around the cup.

He couldn’t be...he couldn’t be _pregnant_. And yet, from what he knew about his mother’s and some of his other sister’s times, all the physical symptoms pointed to it. It explained why he felt so bloated, the strange cravings, the vomiting, the need for warmth. He lifted a hand to run his fingers through his hair, dropping it to his neck as he cleared his throat to speak.

“How...how did you know?”

“Darling, I’ve given birth to over fifty children to different fathers.” The Mymble crossed her leg almost daintily, fingers tapping along the rim of her teacup as she took a sip. She said it in a way that was almost prideful, but not quite. “Now, everyone reacts to it differently. Some of your sisters were sick, others weren’t. Some craved the strangest foods, others were normal. It all depends on the person, not to mention their lineage.”

Snufkin rested a paw on his stomach, pursing his lips together as he looked away from his mother as his tail swished behind him. The mint tea had definitely settled his stomach, though the idea that something was in there, was forming inside to grow and would be needy and want his attention and... He closed his eyes before the panic could rise any further, inhaling sharply. “How...far along am I?”

“Mmm, well Mymbles tend to gestate around six to twenty one days, but since the little ones-“

“Oh stars and heavens.” He buried his face in his hands at the thought of a dozen tiny moomins and mumriks running around underfoot.

“- haven’t showed their lovely faces, I think it’s safe to say that you have your father’s genetics in this case. Mumriks are typically fifty eight-sixty seven days.” The Mymble set her teacup down and stood to move around to her son’s chair, rubbing his shoulders soothingly.

“That’s...that’s two months.” Snufkin looked like he was going to be sick again. “You mean to tell me I’ve been pregnant for almost two months and I haven’t even _noticed_?!”

“Denial will do that, dear,” she tutted, her tail sweeping the floor behind her as she took the seat next to him instead, paws folding in her lap. “Tell me, did you have sex-“

“Mother!”

She waited for him to cease his protests before continuing, appearing calm despite the urgency on hand. “Did you have sex during your last heat?”

Snufkin’s face was beet red behind his hand, biting his thumb as he looked away from her as much as possible. “I...I guess. I don’t keep track of it much anymore since I’m older. I thought it would...stop being important.”

“Nonsense! Your heat needs are just as important now as they were back then if you were planning on bearing children.” The Mymble wagged her finger at her son, clicking her tongue before she paused. “Of course, it stands to reason that Moomintroll was _also_ in heat at the time if he was able to fertilise it...”

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.” Snufkin wanted to hide his face in his hat, but that was upstairs in his guest room, so he opted to grab a cushion from the nearby couch and pressed it into there, screams muffled. “I can’t believe I never noticed. How...how _careless_! How _foolish_!”

“Let it out, dear.” The Mymble reached for her cup of tea, watching under lowered lashes as he mumbled into the cushion, claws tearing at the edges. Oh dear, that would need to be replaced before her latest batch of little ones woke from their winter hibernation and had questions.

Eventually, Snufkin seemed to calm down, arms still tight around the pillow and tail swaying in agitation but less angry with himself, knees drawn up and feet perched on the edge of his chair. His eyes were confused but he seemed to be resigned, shoulders slacking as he sighed and pressed his forehead into his pillow. “...I’m scared, mother,” he confessed, toes curling as he pursed his lips together.

“It’s alright, darling.” She reached over to brush some hair from his forehead, pulling her hand back when she realised it was slick with sweat and stood, going to fetch a towel from the downstairs bathroom. When she came back, he was on the couch, still hugging the torn cushion like it was a lifeline and looking downright miserable. The Mymble paused, taking a seat beside him and reaching to wipe his face with the wet cloth, cupping his chin with her free hand. “It’s scary, I know. It doesn’t make you any less of a person for feeling that way.”

Snufkin’s ears pulled back against the sides of his head, looking at her a little perplexed. The fact that she used person and not woman was something that warmed the pit of his stomach, and he looked down, picking at one of the torn threads of the cushion in his arms. “I didn’t think you understood,” he said, voice muffled a bit as he rested his cheek against it, tugging his chin away.

“Now, Snufkin, I may be an old woman but that doesn’t mean that I’m so old that I don’t understand,” she scolded, wrapping him up in her arms and rubbing his shoulders as he relaxed from his pent up position. “You’re still my child. Man or woman or whatever, it doesn’t matter to me, and the same would go for your siblings should they decide they’re something else.”

He buried his face against her shoulder now, cheeks tinged pink and he didn’t know what from. “...will you help me?” The question was just about meweled out of him, and she sighed into his hair.

“Of course I will, darling. Whatever gave you the idea that I wouldn’t?” She pulled back and let her hands trail along his arms before they cupped his paws, squeezing softly. “We’ll make it as safe and comfortable a home birth as possible.”

Snufkin felt his throat clog up and he swallowed, glancing away. “I want to...I want to be north when it happens. So I can show Moomin. So he...he knows.”

The Mymble smiled and squeezed their paws again before standing. “I’ll go tell the turtle to turn around. It might take a bit but we’ll get there.” She walked out of the dining room and threw the door open, and he could hear her shouting orders to the beast that carried her house on its back.

Snufkin relaxed back against the couch as he felt the turtle move, removing the cushion from his arms and placing his paws on his stomach. A baby. Or, well, _babies_. Time would tell whether or not his mumrik/mymble genes would win out against Moomin’s troll genes when it came to how many. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind one or two,” he murmured to himself, thumb running circles around his stretched stomach over his shirt, thinking back to the summer solstice and watching his husband splash in the water with all the kids.

He knew Moomin, no matter how much he denied it, yearned to be a father. He knew that, despite his own fears and feelings of incompetence and his nature, it might not be so bad. Snufkin raised his paw to rub the sudden tears away, hearing his mother come back in and looked up to see her brush her own paws off on her dress.

“There. We should be back in Moominvalley in two weeks,” she said cheerily, beaming at him before she tilted her head when she saw him crying. Her brow knitted together in sympathy before she held her arms open and closed the distance between them to hug him, feeling him bury his face in her shoulder and the material of her dress become wet. “Shhh, dear. What brought this on?”

“I don’t know.” He shook in her arms, hiccuping as he found himself unable to stop, teeth chattering against her shoulder. “I just...”

“I know, honey.” The Mymble rubbed her paw against his back, making calming noises before she pulled back and clutched his paws again. “I’ll make you a nice vegetable soup for lunch, okay? It should settle that feeling, and then you can take an afternoon nap.”

Snufkin sniffed, pulling a paw back to rub it against his eye again and gave her a watery smile. “Okay, mamma.”

“There’s my brave strong man.” She patted his cheek and turned away to start on the promised soup, leaving him to relax against the couch and stare out the window, all the time rubbing his stomach, as though waiting for a sign that it was going to be over.

He was scared, but he’d be with Moomin soon, and the Mymble was pretty much an expert in the birthing process. He was in good hands.

He hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mymbles have been compared to frogs before on tumblr, so I used the idea of how long it takes a frog to gestate when compared to a cat (mumrik) to get a vague idea of how far along Snufkin is. I’ve also seen news articles where people didn’t know they were pregnant until they gave birth. So it’s sort of a mix.
> 
> as always, please feel free to come chat with me @genderfluidsnufkin on tumblr :) until next time


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moomintroll and the Joxter run into a spot of bother.

Moomintroll found himself waking up each day after that initial time. He half wondered if it was because spring was approaching, though the days inched over one another and blurred together. More often than not he found himself in the company of the Joxter, spending time getting to know his father-in-law more than he ever had outside of his parents or Snufkin being there as well, and he had ventured down to the bathhouse to talk with Too-Ticky once or twice.

Wrapping a red woollen cloak around his shoulders, Moomintroll stepped out of the house, a lantern in hand and bag in the crook of his arm. His breath blew into the cold air like mist, looking up at the sky before he began trudging the distance between Moominhouse and his cottage. The boredom had started to set in sometime during the second week of being awake, so he hefted the bag over his shoulder as he walked, leaving deep trenches in the snow.

Moominvalley in winter was a sheet of white, blanketing the usual green hills that were covered by flowers in spring. The river lacked the sound of trickling water, frozen over until such a time as the sun became strong enough to break it. There was no sound, other than the occasional wolf howl, far beyond the Lonely Mountains. Moomintroll felt so incredibly lonely, like he was the only living thing in the world, but the weight of the ring around his tail let him know otherwise.

“I wonder how Snufkin’s doing,” he murmured to himself, hand clasping at the cloak around his shoulders. Wind blew, as though answering him, whistling around his waist and his tail swayed behind him, continuing on. He was determined to get through the snow today, and his ears twitched as he heard something akin to the sound of metal creaking with a groan.

Turning to the right, Moomintroll lifted his lantern and saw two bright yellow eyes gleaming in the dark before the snow and shadows shifted, white teeth bearing, as the Groke shuffled. His tail straightened - during his many years awake during hibernation, it wasn’t his first encounter with the creature, and he’d managed to strike up a somewhat cumbersome relationship with it, though it was always alarming to see it.

“Hello,” he said simply, hearing it groan in response like a rusted pipe. “I’m afraid with the winter here, we haven’t much in the way of fresh food.” Moomintroll took hold of his lantern in his other paw and lifted his arm to rummage around in his bag. “I have some bread though, if you’d li...”

He suddenly got a face full of snow and stumbled back, lantern dropping from his paw and being doused out in the snow. Moomintroll wiped it from his fur as he heard the Groke groan in surprise and disappointment, blinking and looking at the Joxter’s back. The mumrik was poised, back hunched and tail waving in the air, hissing before he turned his attention to the troll.

“Fool boy. It’s a good thing I decided to come after you.” The Joxter’s blue eyes shone brightly in the dark shadows of the clouds overhead, gleaming over his shoulder like two lanterns as he turned back to face the Groke, his tail lashing behind him. “I don’t know what you want with him, beast, but...”

“No no no!” Moomintroll waved his hands and waded through the snow to stand between them, arms held out as though protecting the creature. The Joxter’s tail slacked, but his paws remained clawed, shoulders taught. “No! The Groke’s not here to hurt me. It’s just attracted to the lantern light. I was about to give it some bread.”

“Oh...” The Joxter crouched back, though he remained on the edge as Moomintroll rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a loaf, turning to hand it over. The Groke, still looking startled from the encounter, looked down at the food with its usual slowness, blinking at the troll before it took the bread. Almost instantly it froze in its touch as Moomintroll let go, turning away and disappearing into the dark of the valley.

Moomin gave a small sigh of relief and shuffled his hand back to clasp at his cloak, reaching down into the snow to pull up his lantern and reached to turn it back on, then looked at the Joxter who was now sitting in the snow with his hands pressed down and claws retracted. “Thanks, uh, I guess. For coming to the rescue.”

“Unnecessary though it was.” The Joxter’s brow furrowed as he eyeballed his son-in-law from where he was licking his paw, tail lashing behind him. He stood properly, hands moving to the pockets of his jacket, following after Moomintroll as he started walking away. “You need to be careful in winter.”

“I know about the dangers,” he said a little airily, tail swaying behind him as though annoyed. “It’s not the first time I’ve been awake in winter.”

The Joxter eyed him and reached into his pocket for his pipe and lighter, pushing some catnip down into it before lighting it. He followed along, though he would be lying if he said he didn’t keep an eye out. Moomintroll was Moomin’s precious son and his own son’s husband - as his father-in-law it was his duty to watch over him.

“I’m surprised you’re not back in Moominhouse where it’s warm,” the young troll quipped, glancing at him out the corner of his eye. “From pappa’s stories, you were...always looking for somewhere warm to sleep.”

“Psh. Is that how he wrote it?” The Joxter scoffed around his pipe and hunched his shoulders, shaking his head. “I wasn’t quite so lazy, but I suppose he wrote it that way to make himself seem important.” His blue eyes shined with mirth, though in good nature. “Someone had to look after those idiots. I once took on a giant spider, though it turned out to be fake.”

Moomintroll remembered that, though neglected to comment on the rest. Sunlight peeked through the clouds, just enough to illuminate the white sheets of snow. The wolves howled again, though this time closer than before. His ears perked, stilling in movement and feeling the Joxter stop beside him, tension thick in the air, and his hand immediately flew out to grasp for the Joxter’s paw.

“That was too close,” the older mumrik murmured beside him, speaking around his pipe as he raised his free paw to tug it from his mouth. Looking down, he saw Moomintroll’s ears flatten against his head and he squeezed the young troll’s paw reassuringly.

“Y-Yeah.” Moomin’s tail swished nervously, sweeping up snow in its wake. “We’re close to the cottage.”

“Then lets go.”

The two of them started to hurry in the direction of the house, the Joxter taking the lead and practically dragging Moomintroll behind him as he stumbled through the snow. The howling swept ever closer, urging them forward towards the edge of the forest where Snufkin and Moomin had set their cottage twenty years ago. With a grunt, the Joxter suddenly found himself tackled away from Moomin, their paws torn apart, and raised his arms, blocking the teeth of the snarling wolf above him.

“Joxter!”

Moomintroll’s scream was barely heard around the wind that had picked up and masked the pack’s approach, turning around and dropping his bag into his paw to fling it at the wolf, managing to hit it hard enough to cause it to yelp and roll off, the Joxter rolling to his feet and dropping to all fours, hissing like a wild animal.

“I’m fine!” His hackles raised as Moomin hurried over to him, spotting the patch of blood in the snow. “Get going.”

“Not without you.” Moomintroll picked his bag up and swung it around, cursing himself for leaving without pappa’s shotgun. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if anything happened.”

The Joxter spared him a glance before returning his attention to the circling wolves, growling deep in his throat and eyes slitted. “You Moomins are too soft. It’s going to get you into trouble one of these days.”

“It already has,” Moomin responded with a bitter laugh, hunching his shoulders and puffing his fur. His winter coat made him look more like a marshmallow than usual, though hopefully the bigger form would warn them off. “Leave us alone!”

“They’re hunting,” his father-in-law said, wincing a little as he shifted, putting weight on his injured arm but maintaining his position. “Probably haven’t had much to eat all winter.”

“That doesn’t mean _we’re_ food.”

“ _You’re_ the one who chose to wear a red cloak.”

All of a sudden, the sound of shotgun echoed through the valley and the wolves flattened their ears, shoulders hunching, and Moomin strained his eyes to see where the bullet had hit the snow in front of them. His ears caught the sound of it being cocked again, and a thick brogue broke through the dead of winter. “That’s yer warnin’ shot. Next one goes straight through th’ eyes.”

“Too-Ticky!”

She shouldered her shotgun, aiming at the pack leader, who snarled but didn’t seem to want to bother against that kind of weapon. Weaponless creatures taking an unfortunate stroll through the snow, yes, but even it could see through hunger that it wasn’t worth it. The three of them watched as the pack fled back into the forest and the Lonely Mountains, before Too-Ticky sighed and turned the safety lock on, placing her hand on her hip and nodding. She turned her head to speak to them before she found herself with an armful of Moomintroll, his arms wrapping around her.

“Aye, it’s good to see ye too, Moomintroll,” she said, patting his elbow. “But could ye release me from that death grip of yers for a minute?”

“Oh! Sorry.” He beamed sheepishly, detaching himself from her and taking a step back before seeming to remember what had happened. Looking over, he saw the Joxter patting snow into his wound, having stripped himself of his jacket and hissing under his breath.

“Let me look at that.” Too-Ticky walked over, setting her shotgun against a nearby tree and reaching into the pouch at her side, pulling out a roll of bandages and some rubbing alcohol. “What on earth were ye fools doin’ this time o’ day?”

“Following him,” he said with a grunt and a nod to Moomintroll, whose tail fluffed in indignation as he held the recovered lantern for his sister-in-law.

“Well yer lucky I came your way.” Too-Ticky sponged the wound before she wrapped it with the bandage, making sure that it was tight. “Doesn’t look too bad, but I’ll need to see it in natural light before makin’ any judgements.” She pulled back and stood, grabbing her shotgun. “How’s it feel?”

“Good. Not the worst I’ve ever had.” The Joxter flexed his arm before he stood properly, throwing his jacket over his shoulder with his good paw.

“By the way, what are you doing out here?” Moomintroll asked, paw going to the clasp of his cloak and tugging it closer as wind blew around them.

“Ah, that’s right.” Too-Ticky shouldered her shotgun, hand draped over the heel of it as she turned her attention to both of them. “A wee critter came by th’ bathhouse to tell me th’ Mymble’s house was spotted to just to the south of th’ beach. It asked me to deliver a message from her.”

The Joxter and Moomintroll looked at each other in some confusion before returning their gaze to her as she turned, looking over her shoulder at them as though gesturing for them to follow her. “What’s the Mymble doing this far north?” Moomin asked, shouldering his bag and beginning to follow after her, the Joxter bringing up the rear.

“Well, it didn’t tell me a whole lot, but it did mention something about Snufkin being in trouble.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pregnancy warning for the WHOLE CHAPTER you have been warned

The change to Snufkin’s body over the last week or so was hardly noticeable. He didn’t swell like a balloon like some people did when pregnant, but he did gain a bit of body to his stomach, and not from the way the Mymble was feeding him now that she had confirmed it. It wasn’t like she was feeding him junk - it was all healthy, good food from Mymblenanna’s recipe book, but balancing his diet outside of his usual stews and fish and coffee left Snufkin a bit disgruntled.

Especially when he’d been told off for touching his pipe. That had gotten her a hiss and a scowl of annoyance.

With the help of one of her older daughters, the Mymble had managed to make the guest room that he’d been staying in into a nest with the blankets and cushions that weren’t taken up by the children sleeping the hibernation away. She hadn’t even blinked when she came up with a cup of tea and found it mapped out like a tent, Snufkin curled up in a ball as though he was protecting his stomach. She smiled softly and had left the cup on the dresser before turning out the light and closing the door.

She’d sent word ahead to Too-Ticky of their impending arrival, requesting that she gather Moomintroll from Moominhouse if he was awake, and if not wake him up. A few days has passed since then and, naturally, the Mymble was starting to wonder what was taking so long. She looked out the window, nibbling on her thumb as she wrapped a scarf around her shoulders. The weather had started getting colder the further north they traveled, indicating the distance between where they were now and Moominvalley, and if she had to guess, she would say they were a few hours away.

The turtle had been stopped by the frozen wasteland that the ocean had turned into, and she had sent one of the older boys out to fetch firewood to keep the house warm, and her two older girls out for groceries from a nearby village. The Mymble was always a busy woman, but knowing that they would be welcoming a new arrival any day now made her twice as busy.

It wasn’t very often that the Mymble was the one delivering. She could count the amount of babies she had personally delivered on five fingers of her paw, Moomintroll being one of them. Still, she had everything that she needed to know about mumrik births in Mymblenanna’s book, though of course that could still be quite different.

Snufkin had taken quite a liking to the mint tea that she had been giving him, considering it helped settle his nausea. He sat at the dining table while the Mymble stood at the counter, following one of the recipes, an aroma coming from the pot on the stove that made his nose wrinkle and tail flick. “What is that?”

“Healing balm,” she said, humming softly as she stirred in some more herbs. “If it needs to be removed by cutting it out, we want the stitches to heal as quick as possible. This recipe has never failed me.” The Mymble looked over her shoulder and winked at her son. “Also doubles as great lube.”

“Mother!” Snufkin’s face turned bright red and he buried it into the palm of a paw as she laughed jovially at him.

“Oh don’t be such a prude, dear.” She raised her wooden spoon to examine the thickness, then tapped it against the side of the pot and covered it with the lid. “However did you manage having sex with your husband with that kind of attitude?”

“That’s none of your business,” he grumbled, dragging his paw down his face as he took a sip grumpily, huffing was he leaned back in his chair.

“Yes well,” she hummed, taking a seat across from him and cupping her hands together, placing her chin on her paws. “As none of my business as it is, as your midwife I’m definitely curious. I’m not compatible with trolls myself yet somehow you seemed to manage just fine. Your father too, for that matter. Must be a mumrik thing.”

“I don’t want to know about dad and Moominpappa quite frankly.”

“Oh not just him.”

“I just said I don’t want to know!” Snufkin’s face was fully beet red, tail swishing behind him on its end as he slapped his paw down on the table.

The Mymble gave him a small smile and raised her own paws. “I’m sorry, darling, I just thought you’d appreciate a little humour right now.” She reached across the table to take hold of his hand, rubbing her thumb along the back. “How are you feeling?”

“Aside from second hand embarrassment?” Snufkin set his cup down, pressing his paw to his chin and leaning his elbow against the table. His brow furrowed, cheeks barely tinged pink now as he pulled back slightly to look down at his stomach. “I...” he inhaled “I think I’m okay. Nervous. I mean, what if they don’t like me? What if I don’t like them? I mean, it’s not like I planned this.”

“Oh, dearie.” The Mymble gave him a sympathetic smile and withdrew her paw to rest her chin against it again. “Every expectant mother has that feeling. And they’ll definitely go through a rebellious phase if my genetics are anything to go by. But you’ll be fine.” Noticing her son’s nervousness, she sat back in her chair, tail swaying behind her. “And I’ll be here for you. So will Moominmamma when we tell her the news. Everyone will want to help you with the little one, just wait and see.”

“I hope so. Sniff still doesn’t get that I’m genetically female, so I think turning up in spring with a baby will be difficult for him to grasp,” he said with a snort into his cup, earning laughter from his mother.

“Ah yes, well, that boy certainly isn’t like his father or mother,” she muttered, turning her gaze to look out the kitchen window. The sound of the teacup clattering to the floor made her head swivel around, watching her son double over and she leaped to her feet. “Snufkin dear?”

“I...” He inhaled and exhaled deeply, paw gripping the table as his other went around his middle. The Mymble walked around the table to his sides, placing her paws on his shoulders as she looked down, seeing the front of his gown and the chair wet.

“Oh dear. Come on, upstairs with you.” Reaching, she picked her son up and into her arms, one arm under his knees while the other supported his shoulders and neck as he curled in, tail mimicking his movement, cheeks blushing. The door opened just then, the two girls back from their grocery trip as their mother passed with their older brother in hand. “Bridget, Johanna, it’s time. One of you watch the stove, the other come with me.”

The girls nodded to each other, one of them following them up the stairs - Snufkin didn’t know which one to be honest - and opening the door to the guest room where his blanket fort was laid out. The girl hurried forward to lay out towels and blankets, the Mymble dropping to her knees to lay Snufkin down into a comfortable position, cushions propped up behind him. 

“Just breathe, sweetie,” she said with a hush, brushing hair from his eyes.

“‘m scared.”

“It’s okay, I’m here. It’ll be over soon.”

\---

Moomintroll’s heart raced as he hurried with Too-Ticky and the Joxter down the snow capped hills towards the beach, barely hearing his sister-in-law yelling at him to wait. They’d already crossed the valley from Moominhouse, opting to take the long way to the Mymble’s turtle house rather than the shorter distance across the ocean - with spring on the way it could break up any moment, so they’d decided to move down where it was water and not ice, which was near the next town over.

It had taken them nearly a day to navigate out of the valley, with the Joxter guiding them despite his injured arm from the wolves just hours beforehand. Moomintroll had seen the Mymble’s house from the top of the hill and had sped up, determined to reach it before anything could happen.

Snufkin was in trouble? What kind of message was that? One that made Moomintroll sprint off after they got a clear knowing of their heading that was for sure. Too-Ticky caught his arm before he nearly went rolling over the edge of the beach cliffs to the sea, tugging him back towards her as some snow slid down the slope.

He turned to look at her sheepishly as she sighed. “Yer no good to anyone dead, Moomintroll,” she scolded as the Joxter caught up with them, standing from his four-paw gait as he got closer.

“Sorry,” he said with a swallow, watching the older mumrik cough as he caught his breath.

“It’s all well and good, boy, but if Snufkin is laid up at my dear Mymble’s, then he’s in safe hands,” the Joxter said once he could speak, tail swishing behind him. “She’s as good as any medicine woman or Moominmamma with grandma’s recipe book, trust me.”

“I do, I just...”

“Yer anxious to see him.” Too-Ticky’s gaze lightened considerably, her hand slipping down from the crook of his elbow to squeeze at his paw reassuringly. “Let’s go.”

The three of them crossed the snow-covered sand and the edges where there was no snow at all, Moomintroll raising his paw to knock when one of the younger mymbles opened the door, looking frazzled. “Good, you’re here!” She ushered them all in, closing the door after them, and Too-Ticky and the Joxter took steps back as she started guiding Moomintroll up the stairs before -

“I AM _NEVER_ LETTING THAT TROLL TOUCH ME AGAIN! IF HE SO MUCH AS PLACES A PAW ON ME, I’M CUTTING IT OFF FINGER BY FINGER!”

Moomintroll’s ears flattened against his head, tail drooping behind him as he shrunk and turned to look at Too-Ticky and the Joxter, who both had shocked faces before the mumrik’s eyes blew wide in realisation, something hitting him before it did anyone else. The young mymble tugged on his paw and the Joxter inclined his head for him to go on, drawing Too-Ticky towards the kitchen so that they could take better care of his arm.

“I wouldn’t pay him any mind,” the young mymble said as she guided him gently up the stairs to the first landing, pausing at the closed door to the guest room. “It’s all been very stressful. I mean, he’s been in labor for hours and the baby hadn’t even breached yet before you came...”

Labor?

_Baby_??!!

Moomintroll opened the door, raising his voice shakily. “S-Snufkin?”

There was a beat before wails broke the quiet of the room, the Mymble kneeling with her hands between his husband’s legs and wrapping towels around something so very very small. His heart beat harder as he was pushed in, Snufkin’s voice coming and quieter than before.

“Moomin?”

“Ah, there you are.” The Mymble pulled back slightly and watched the troll come around to join them on the floor, looking shellshocked like she thought he’d be. His paw went to grasp Snufkin’s, who looked as tired and sweaty as she had felt the first time, and who weakly returned the grip and leaned his forehead into the white fur of his husband. “Just in time.”

“You sent for him, mother?” Snufkin’s voice was barely audible, hoarse and croaky from screaming and swearing his head off for once in his life.

“Of course.” She beamed at her son and crawled around on her knees so that she was in a good position to hand Moomintroll the parcel in towels in her arms. “I thought he’d want to meet his child after all.”

“Snufkin...you were pregnant?” Moomintroll asked with a whisper as he took the bundle, nursing it against his chest and looking at his husband.

“Didn’t know until two weeks ago,” he said with a coughing laugh, tilting his head to look up at him. “Mother had to break the news to me.” He reached up, drawing back part of the towel to look at it. “Look.”

Moomintroll looked.

In his arms was the smallest creature he’d seen next to Little My, hairless in patches but where there was fur slicked with blood somewhat, it was pale brown, though its ears were entirely moomin. Its nose was small and mumrik-like, and as he stared it started to wail again.

“I’ll leave you alone.”

Nobody heard the Mymble as she stood and left the room, closing the door behind her and leaving the two to stare at their newborn like it was the stars shooting across the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at me, the spinster lesbian cat lady aunt, writing about these gays having their first child like I have first hand experience
> 
> anyway, as usual, feel free to hit me up @genderfluidsnufkin on tumblr :) hope y’all enjoyed


	5. Chapter 5

Moominhouse rose from its hibernation sleep on its own schedule.

Moominmamma was the one who woke first as usual, wiping sleep from her eyes and looking at the clock before pushing the covers back and standing with a stretch, before she reached for her apron hanging over the chair beside the bed. Pappa roller over almost immediately and took up her spot, his snout buried in the pillow as he snored. Smiling softly, she leaned over and pressed her own to his forehead before leaving the bedroom.

The floorboards creaked with each step she took, cold still from the winter, though as she got to the bottom landing she could see the remaining embers of a fire in the fireplace. Further inspection told her that someone had been using her kitchen, and her thoughts went to the Joxter, who had joined them for winter sleep. “Poor dear mustn’t have been able to hibernate,” she hummed as she tied her apron on and set about making a spring feast.

It was a couple of hours later before Little My came bounding down the stairs, still energetic despite being in her fifties now. “Morning, mamma,” she said cheerfully, hopping onto the bench behind her and sitting down at the edge. “Have you seen Moomin?”

“Good spring, dear, and no I haven’t. He must still be asleep,” she said, kneading the dough under her paws with a push of her elbows. She sighed and pulled away, looking at Little My as she shook her head.

“Nah-uh. I checked.” The little mymble stood and came over to assist, folding the dough over and shoving it down. “He probably woke up through winter again.”

“Oh dear. Well, the Joxter was here so he had company.” She wasn’t too worried about her son - he was an adult and perfectly capable of handling himself now. When Little My stood back from the dough and deemed it ready, Mamma took hold of a bowel and slid it in to rise, turning back around to prepare the pancake mixture, but not before reaching for a freshly made pitcher of lemonade and a glass.

“The Joxter’s hardly company,” Little My scoffed, turning her nose up at the thought of her brother’s father, holding her hands out for the glass as it was given to her. “I bet he snores.”

“No worse than Moominpappa.”

Gulping down her lemonade, Little My placed her glass down on the bench and stood, as Mymble came down the stairs to the kitchen, rubbing at her eyes and yawning as she pulled a dressing gown around her. “Good morning, everyone.”

“Good morning and good spring, Mymble,” mamma said, turning her head to smile at their guest. “You can go back to bed if you both want, breakfast may be a while.”

“‘m gonna go wake Snorkmaiden and Ninny up,” Little My said with a huff before she sped up the stairs, taking them two at a time despite her size as her sister shook her head.

“No thank you, mamma. I’m awake now and looking forward to seeing Too-Ticky again.” Mymble thanked her as she handed her a glass of lemonade, sipping from it carefully as she took to leaning against the bench. “Did you have a good sleep?”

“Oh yes, wonderful.” Moominmamma took hold of a whisk and began mixing the pancake mix up, taking a rest after a few minutes with a small sigh. “Please do feel free to bring Too-Ticky for breakfast, there will be lots.”

“Please let me, mamma.” Mymble set her glass down and gently took the bowl from the moomin matriarch, gesturing for her to take a seat as she started whisking it with much more vigor.

“I’m afraid my joints aren’t quite what they used to be.”

“Perhaps we should call the doctor once he wakes so he can check your arthritis, mamma.” Mymble’s brow furrowed in concern as she turned around to talk to her, holding the bowl in the crook of her elbow as she stirred. “There are modern remedies after all.”

“Perhaps,” she mused, though even as she said this she reached for grandma’s recipe book, flicking through the pages before Little My’s voice came from the upstairs floor.

“Mamma! Mymble! Come up here quick, you need to see this!”

Looking at each other with a bit of alarm, the two women stopped what they were doing and headed up the stairs to where Little My was standing in the doorway to Moominhouse, gesturing for them to come over and pointing out into the fields. Moominmamma squinted before she reached for the glasses sitting around her neck, raising them to rest on her snout and her ears came forward, as Mymble left her side and broke into a run towards the approaching figures.

“Oh my. I’d better make double batches,” she mused to herself as she wiped her hands on her apron and stepped out, only to turn as she heard the stairs creak behind her as Moominpappa came down, yawning.

“What’s all the commotion?” he grumbled, fingers fumbling with his cane as he placed his top hat on his head. It was worn and frayed at the edges, and mamma made a mental note to repair it later as she stepped aside to let him see, his tail straightening behind him in alarm. “My stars and heavens! That is a lot of folk, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” mamma replied, reaching to dust some of his fur off for him and taking hold of his paw as Little My ran ahead of them, tugging him outside into the spring sunshine.

The approaching group consisted of their son and his husband, Too-Ticky, the Joxter and the Mymble, her latest batch of children following behind her, Snorkmaiden and Ninny on one side of Snufkin cooing at the bundle in his arms. Mymble finally reached them and pretty much flung herself at her wife, who caught her and spun her around with much fervour.

“What’s that you have there?” Moominmamma heard Little My ask, tilting her head as she tried to stand on her tiptoes to see the bundle of blankets and her ears perked forward, her paw going to her mouth as she approached with her husband. The group stopped and let Moomin and Snufkin come forward, the latter looking nervous and the former beaming with pride.

“Mamma, pappa,” Moomintroll said, his arm going around Snufkin’s waist reassuringly. “We had something...well, something happened over winter.”

“Oh dear. Nobody was hurt, were they?” Pappa could be so dense sometimes, and mamma met the Joxter’s gaze as both of them rolled their eyes.

“Not exactly. Well, I’m still a little sore,” Snufkin admitted, his husband snorting beside him before he elbowed him in the side. A small sound came from the bundle and he stepped forward, his arms tightening slightly before he smiled softly and pulled the blanket back. “Mamma, pappa, I’d like to introduce you to your granddaughter.”

“Granddaughter?!” Pappa’s eyes couldn’t get wider if they tried, mamma giggling beside him as she gently took hold of the babe from her son-in-law’s arms. Snufkin looked nervous, but she had a gentle touch, pappa looking over her shoulder as the little mumrik opened her eyes, blue like the Joxter’s, her ears flicking forward at the new faces. “My oh my, she is small.”

“Hello, dear,” mamma cooed, reaching with a thumb to wipe away a bit of drool from the corner of her mouth. She let out a sound of surprise as her paw was grabbed by tiny hands, but she felt herself melting. “What’s her name?”

“Tuulikki,” Moomin said, taking hold of Snufkin’s paw before his husband could reach for their daughter back. “It was a bit windy when she was born so...”

“A perfect name indeed,” pappa agreed, though he leaned back to rub at his snout. “I suppose this makes me Moomingrandpa now.”

“She’s beautiful,” mamma said, handing her back to Snufkin who took her into his arms with such care that made her smile. “Well, come in, everyone. Breakfast will be a while but you can all get settled. Moominp...Moomingrandpa can set up a nursery in one of the guest rooms.”

“I’ll help!” Little My said boastfully, Snorkmaiden and Ninny making noises of agreement as they followed after her into the house, excited, everyone walking behind them.

Moomintroll turned his head to look over his shoulder when he realised Snufkin wasn’t following, brow furrowing. “Is something wrong, Snufkin?”

He shook his head, holding onto their daughter as he stepped forward to join his husband with a small smile. “You were right. They love her.”

“Of course they do,” the troll said, his tail flicking behind him. “They’re her grandparents.”

Snufkin laughed a little to himself and shook his head, holding Tuulikki gently. “I don’t know what I was so worried about,” he admitted, his own tail swaying as he took small steps towards Moominhouse. “I guess I forgot people can be kind.”

“She’ll be surrounded by people who love her,” Moomintroll reassured him, squeezing his elbow and nosing his neck with his snout. “I don’t doubt that.”

Looking at Moominhouse felt like coming home, though their house was the cottage at the edge of the forest. Snufkin turned his head to return the nuzzle and kiss, Tuulikki making noises as she reached up to pat her paw against her father’s nose and causing her parents to break into laughter.

_No,_ Snufkin thought to himself as he followed Moomintroll into the house, Little My running down the stairs and running circles around his legs. _This was home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there you have it! I partially named her Tuulikki because I thought it sounded nice (it was that or Nea, which means flower) but then I remembered that Tuulikki was the name of Tove Jansson’s partner and I couldn’t NOT name her that.
> 
> hope y’all enjoyed, see you in snufmin week :)

**Author's Note:**

> as always, come chat with me @genderfluidsnufkin on tumblr :)


End file.
